


grow as we go

by mayfriend



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Abortion, Consent Issues, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Discrimination, Discussion of Abortion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Misogyny, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Dick Grayson, Omega Dick Week 2020, Or the ABO equivalent, Other, Tags May Change, Unwanted Pregnancy, Victim Blaming, Who's The Daddy?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayfriend/pseuds/mayfriend
Summary: He loses two days before Damian, blessedly unaffected due to his immature scent glands, manages to track him down and shoot him full of antidote. Dick’s lost most of his suit in that time, has acquired several scratches and bruises - but no bite marks, thank god - and feels like he’s torn down there. Limping back to the Batcave without letting on to Damian is torturous. His only comfort is that everyone else, save Tim and Dami, were in a similar state. An agonising fourteen hours pass before Ivy is finally dealt with, and Dick can pass out with what little remains of his dignity.What happens after that- well, that’s his own fault.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson/Other(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 99
Collections: Omega!Dick Week





	grow as we go

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6: **Accidental Pregnancy** , Titans, Robin!Dick
> 
> Turns out, two of my Omega Dick Week fills are gonna be chapter fics. Because I just cannot stop myself. Work title taken from Ben Platt's song of the same name.

Dick doesn’t like keeping secrets, but he’s good at it. He’s had to be. 

Since he was eight years old, Dick has had secrets that powerful people would and have killed to obtain - it’s the price for being Robin, and later the price of being Nightwing, and it’s  _ worth  _ it - but Dick has secrets of his own too. Secrets that have nothing to do with Bruce Wayne, or Batman, but everything to do with Dick Grayson.

Like, when he was fourteen, Dick bled for the first time. 

Dick had always known his designation; it was rather hard to miss the slit between his legs - but he only ever really remembered it was there when he was in bed, exploring, skimming his fingers gingerly over the warm opening as he experimented with his sex. It was like an appendix, or a second kidney; useless, in most male omegas like Dick, only present as a genetic quirk than as a working secondary set of reproductive organs. Sure, there  _ were  _ fertile male omegas, but they were so rare that each one had to be specially registered with the government, and there were barely a hundred in the entire country.  _ Less likely than winning the lottery jackpot twice,  _ was the example his sexual health teacher had used when one of Dick’s classmates had blushingly asked what the odds were one of  _ them  _ might bleed, which had calmed nine year old Dick down a lot. Fourteen year old Dick found it incredibly unhelpful. 

Male omegas were by-and-large treated like male betas, as they both lacked knots and were only able to reproduce by siring a child, not carrying it; Dick had no problem with that at all, as whilst he might have some extra plumbing, he didn’t  _ feel  _ any different from his beta friends, and he didn’t want to be treated differently. The only things Dick knew about fertile male omegas was what he’d seen from the provocative drawings of them on the front of romance novels or photographs of beautiful young men hanging off the arms of their much older spouses on the front pages of tabloid newspapers, and later, how prominently they were featured in porn. Whilst female omegas were almost as common as female betas, and the numbers of male and female alphas were equal the world over, fertile male omegas were almost alien, strange and unnatural and impossible. They were certainly more alien than Clark ever was.

Dick didn’t want it. Dick didn’t want any of it. 

He’s already being followed around by grown men with flashing cameras whenever he walks through his own city without his pixie boots because of who Bruce is, splashed across magazines at his worst angle, stared at by people on the street because they think they know him. How much worse could it be if it wasn’t about Bruce at all, but about him? Robin is his escape from all that, and Dick can see him disappearing as soon as this new freakish quirk of his hits the presses; he can see the crowds of journalists and suitors camped out around Wayne Manor, fencing him into the gilded cage of the singing bird forever. 

(Quieter, and somehow louder, something at the back of his mind asks if Bruce would change his mind if he knew. If he’d suddenly realise that Dick isn’t a beta, despite how he treats him, that Dick has been an omega  _ all along  _ and he’s too  _ precious  _ to risk on his mission-)

(Fuck. That.)

No. He won’t lose Robin. He  _ can’t. _

So he stuffs his boxers with toilet roll, drives miles and miles away to pick up sanitary pads and tampons, with his hood up and sunglasses on. Dick doubts that anybody would think he was buying them for himself, especially as he made sure to buy groceries and batteries and tissue boxes too, but Dick has been raised by the fucking Batman and he doesn’t risk it.

Unlike Batman and Robin, this secret belongs entirely to him, and he makes sure it stays that way. Whilst he’s still living at the mansion, he orders sanitary supplies with a PO Box address under a false name, and once he moves out he continues the same practice in Bludhaven - just because Bruce and Alfred aren’t there to open his packages doesn’t mean he wants those orders linked to his name or his home. All it takes is one curious delivery driver and Dick’s done for. 

But time passes. Nothing happens. Dick never truly relaxes, but he- loosens. He’s not a meta, he’s not superhuman, and he’s got this under control. What’s one more secret, after all? Particularly when nobody is looking for it, not like with Batman. He’s kept bigger, and for longer; it’s not like this little white lie will get anybody killed. 

Dick is Nightwing. Dick was Robin. Dick is Batman’s partner and Bruce Wayne’s son, and Jason and Tim and Cass’s brother. He’s Damian’s Batman, and the Titans’ leader, and Kory and Babs’ ex, and a thousand things in between, a thousand things that have absolutely nothing to do with what his body can do. This secret - it’s his. It belongs to him. He plans to take it to the grave. 

He does not plan for Poison Ivy, because who the fuck  _ can? _

Ivy, of all the rogues in Gotham, at least has a cause. Occasionally, she even has a point. Most of the time, this means that she can be reasoned with, or at least predicted, something nigh-impossible with complete nutcases like the Joker whose actions are almost impossible to anticipate beyond their lethality. It means that when Gotham University submits a grant proposal to study a rare plant, Wayne Industries can use their considerable sway to stop the project in its tracks. It means that Gotham’s parks are some of the best maintained in the country, because everybody knows that it’s suicide to touch one of Ivy’s plants with ill-intent. Some things, however, aren’t possible to avert with common sense and planning. 

Some things, in this particular case, are a couple of out-of-towners deciding it would be so  _ romantic  _ to have sex outside one night, with rose petals scattered all around (don’t they  _ know  _ she sees that kind of thing as equivalent to severed body parts?) and candles flickering a little too close to the dense foliage for comfort. The next thing Dick knows is almost half of Gotham is high on Ivy’s latest concoction, himself included. 

He loses two days before Damian, blessedly unaffected due to his immature scent glands, manages to track him down and shoot him full of antidote. Dick’s lost most of his suit in that time, has acquired several scratches and bruises - but no bite marks, thank God - and feels like he’s torn down there. Limping back to the Batcave without letting on to Damian is torturous. His only comfort is that everyone else, save Tim and Dami, were in a similar state. An agonising fourteen hours pass before Ivy is finally dealt with, and Dick can pass out with what little remains of his dignity. 

What happens after that- well, that’s his own fault. He knows it is. He should’ve gone and got the morning after pill and said it was for a girlfriend, should’ve realised that he wouldn’t exactly be a stickler for safe sex when he was out of his mind, should’ve counted the days and realised that something was wrong-

The truth is, he just didn’t want to think about it any more, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about it. And carrying on like everything was normal was- not easy, but it was certainly  _ easier  _ than confronting what might have happened in those two lost days. Dick has enough nightmares about the things he  _ can  _ remember to know that he doesn’t want to go looking for even more horrors. Plus, he bleeds a couple days afterwards - not as heavily as usual, but he bleeds. And maybe it’s too soon by a week or so, but it’s not hard to imagine that Ivy’s concoctions wreak havoc in the body even after they’ve been expunged. 

It had made so much sense, fit so  _ neatly,  _ and Dick had taken the blood as a sign that he’d gotten lucky. Maybe he’d known that he was fooling himself, even then; it was a couple weeks later when his chest started to ache for no reason, but he explained it away as muscle pain. He’s tired, more tired than usual, but that’s probably because the pain in his pecs is keeping him up at night. He’d tired, so he’s eating a little more than usual, which is why his chest has swelled until he has to wear a sports bra into work and on patrol to disguise his changed body; he’s embarrassed, okay, that he’s gaining weight, that he can’t control his own cravings and increased appetite. 

He faints in the bullpen two months after Ivy’s attack, to the day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_mayfriend_) and on [tumblr](http://mayfriend.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
